


spliced

by halcyonian



Category: BioShock, Homestuck
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Manipulation, Mutation, Needles, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2016-03-27
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:39:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4062031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halcyonian/pseuds/halcyonian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>dirk♠♥hal</p>
<p>In the fair city undersea, things aren't quite what they used to be. Rapture is dying, and so are the people within it, at an alarming rate as well, ever since the riots of 1958. In other words, Dirk Strider and Hal Marius are stuck in a city that's quickly falling apart, and escape seems to be the only viable, if not most difficult option.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story that I originally put on my Tumblr, originally under the URL halycxon. Don't be alarmed if it's on there! It's filed under the writing tag.

They said, that coming to Rapture would make you successful. You'd have freedom to do what you please. It was a paradise for the cream of the crop, the best people that humanity had to offer. It was a place where you could finally live without going through such hard times.

And like a fool, you believed it. Rapture, a place of freedom got tangled in its own loosened chains and choked itself to death, its dying breath a curse on its entire populace. You regretted coming here.But what you regretted most, was bringing Dirk with you.

You've always had complicated feelings about Dirk. He was aggravating, but at times you found that you were utterly, and undeniably in love with him. You never thought you would be capable of feeling such emotions, as you yourself had marked them as useless and annoying.

You weren't always the most expressive sort, but these mixed signals you perpetually got from Dirk frustrated you to no end. But you never admitted this, of course. It'd be a terrible thing to do, wouldn't it, to break your long friendship. But, some things were meant to be broken, to be violently shattered on the floor, the shards spraying everywhere. (As violently as you wanted to kiss him, stealing his breath away, to crush your mouth to his so hard that his lips would bruise , mouths open, gaze hungry when you finally parted, sweet tastes lingering on the others lips).

You remembered coming to Rapture with Dirk, bright eyed (well, not so much bright eyed, but certainly not as pessimistic as you were before). Being slowly submerged into the water in the copper bathysphere, watching as the murky depths gave way to a glorious city, full of neon signs and sweet opportunity. It seemed to defy the odds, that one bright patch on the obfuscated plain of the ocean floor. 

But the brightness of the city proved deceptive. You and Dirk were soon pulled into working for Andrew Ryan, the founder of this city. You two soon became exceptionally rich, but for a price. Your work for Ryan wasn't the happiest go luckiest type of job. Being the top geneticist of your day, you headed many experiments involving the testing of new plasmids on human subjects. 

You had, at first felt an overwhelming guilt. But soon, you felt nothing of the sort. Soon after the release of the plasmids, everything started to deteriorate. People maddened by ADAM addiction and rebellion from a mysterious figure called Atlas, everything went to shit.

Rapture was no longer the utopia it had claimed to be. Splicers, people who were addicts to ADAM and mutated beyond recognition. It was unlikely that they had kept a scrap of humanity, but that possibility was also absurd. 

But those things were all insignificant now. What you had to focus on was getting Dirk to the surface, as quickly as possible, no matter the consequences he had to face, as long as Dirk was relatively unscathed, but it seemed Ryan wanted to keep you here for his own purposes, making it 99.5555% impossible to escapeescape

. But that 0.5% would matter, and it was still a chance you would grasp wholeheartedly, despite your own odds being against you. 

Your name is Hal Marius, and you were about to attempt the most dangerous escape mission on the face of this planet, and succeed or die trying.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will probably update at least once a day or a week. anyhow, shit happens in this second chapter, but you probably already know that. have fun reading.

As soon as the revolution had started, with Atlas heading it, you had devised a very simple plan. Get the fuck out of here, and had fleshed it out since then. But it seemed Ryan didn’t want two of the most important members of his team to so readily leave him, and he made it extremely difficult to escape. Apparently the project named Prometheus, which you had been working on was of the utmost importance. 

You decided to put up with his shit for another year, until that one fateful day on New Years Day, in 1958. Riots had broke out, the establishment you and Dirk had been working in broken into and torn apart. You two had barely made it out with your lives, your projects that you both had worked so hard on abandoned. As the corrosion of the city soon became clear, you determined that you had to leave soon.

But by the love of whatever metaphysical being that was or wasn’t up there (you didn’t really care at this point, as your primary focus was on getting the fuck out), you were still stuck in this unholy city, your only weapons a leaden pipe in your hands, and a heavy wrench in Dirk’s.

Currently, you were on the way to the only remaining functional bathysphere in the Welcome Center, from where you had first entered. It was funny how the only exit you knew of, was the place you first entered this damned city. You two had crept forward slowly making your way there. And you could feel the sweet taste of victory, now that you were a quarter of the way there; as you were sure that you had almost wriggled out of Ryan’s grasp, before you had heard that roar.

“What the hell was that?” Dirk asked, his face hardening into an inscrutable mask as it often did when he was beginning to feel terror creep upon the edges of his being. He stiffened, his hand gripping tightly around his weapon as he prepared to fight, the tension clear in his body.

“You really don’t recognize it? It’s a big daddy. And someone was stupid enough to enrage i-”  
You didn’t get to finish your sentence, as the leviathan, its multiple eyes glowing a fiery red barreled into the hall, its guns firing as it chased after the splicer that had captured its little one.

“You huge fucking tin can! You piece of shit! You think you can beat me?! Well, you can’t even think, can you?” The splicer taunted it, as it returned fire, bullets causing flaming wounds in the dark of the air. The metallic colossus lunged at it, but the splicer managed to dodge, agilely jumping into your end of the hallway. The big daddy stormed in, cornering all three of you into a dead end. You looked wildly for an escape, but Dirk lunged headfirst into the fight, his wrench slamming into the splicers head. Which was good, since the splicer was dead, but he had harmed the little girl in the process, which further enraged the big daddy. Dirk realized too late, too soon, that the drill was descending upon him.

That one moment seemed to slow time, before your adrenaline surged in your veins and you jumped forward, shoving Dirk, that stupid, stupid, boy, out of the way and taking the drill to your stomach, the pain blindfolding you with a cloth of red as you let out, quite literally, a gut wrenching scream.

As the drill was pulled out of your abdomen you wished that Dirk would run, that he would get the hell out of here, even without you. Even though you wanted to return to the surface with him, to breathe that clear air and hear the seagulls scream above your head. Your vision soon started to blur, and your thoughts became incoherent as you faded in and out of consciousness, your blood pouring out onto the gunmetal floor. “Run, you fucking idiot.”

But the last thing you saw, was Dirk sweeping down and grabbing the gun from the splicers stiff hands. Flashes filled the air again, imprinting bright after images into your fluttering eyelids, before you passed out for good, thinking that death was awfully peaceful, the background noise only a faint buzz.

But unfortunately, or fortunately for you, you awoke with a shock and an awful pain in your gut, your vision swimming and a familiar pair of citrine eyes staring into yours, one of them almost swollen shut. Your wound seemed to have healed over slightly, but as you sat up you felt a throbbing in your head, before that pain spread everywhere. “Hal, are you alri-”

“Shut up.” You croaked out, sitting up and putting your hand to your forehead, smoothing back loose hairs and to attempt to soothe the pounding of your head.

You must’ve looked horrible, the blood smeared on your face, in your hair, sticky and staining your grimy white shirt. But that didn’t matter right now; what mattered were the newly formed red veins racing up your left forearm, glowing slightly, the light spidering out into crackles of electricity at the tips of your fingers, an overwhelming ache of want filling the pit of your stomach.

You turned to Dirk, eyes alight with a mixture of fury, confusion, and betrayal, your face contorting to express these overpowering feeling, your voice thick and low with emotion, almost sounding choked.  
_“What the fuck did you do to me, Dirk?”_


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was supposed to be a little longer, but I guess I did not reach my goal today. So, it's half filler, half plot, I guess.

  “What the fuck did you do?!” you snarl out again, lips curling back to expose teeth, almost feral in nature. You were acutely aware of the hostile ache curling and uncurling in your gut, everything filled with want and pain. You felt like shit, and probably looked the part. Your eyes scan the chamber, looking for an answer to your seemingly never ending pain, until your eyes settled in an almost empty syringe in Dirk’s hands, along with a vial partially filled with red liquid, golden ornaments swirling on the glassware. ADAM.

  “Cool it. I just shot you up with this; didn’t you say ‘that this ADAM shit could work miracles’? Besides, you were going to die from the rate you were bleeding at.” Dirk quickly explains, seeking to soothe whatever fury was rising in your chest. He looks wary, as your temper is known to be quite sharp when it surfaces, and that’s extremely rare. You numbly stare at him, as everything clicked into place, a sickening calm flowing into you, cool and icy, smothering out the flames of rage that had previously licked at your insides, singeing what logical thoughts you had.

  You had remembered working with ADAM. You had first believed it a miracle healer, as if you manipulated it correctly, you would be able to instantaneously be able to knit flesh together, and heal all sorts of physical ailments. In essence, you would be able to fix almost any physical problem. You had thrown yourself into your work, lured further in by the promise of wealth and power. Everything was going as planned, and soon you were sure that you and your team had ushered in a new breakthrough in the field of genetics.

Everything was going as planned; the key word being was. In the course of a few months, sometimes even days, subjects started to show abnormal mutations as the plasmids you had introduced became to grow unstable. Tumors, jaundice, heterochromia iridium, loss of coherence and hallucinations; the list would go on and on. They would soon either die, or plead for their deaths or more ADAM, anything to keep from destabilizing, from turning into what they feared would be their worst nightmares. They would beg whomever would pass by, through their reinforced glass cells.

But you had to turn a cold shoulder to their pleas; orders from the top, from Mr. Ryan himself. ADAM wasn’t supposed to be introduced into the market yet; in fact, it was never supposed to be introduced in the first place until you had fixed all its problems that it could cause. Seeing the previous consequences of the substance, you had decided to destroy all samples of it that you could find, as you found that the negatives far outweighed the consequences.

But someone beat you to it, in a sense.

You had returned to your office in the dead of night, planning to execute your plan. But you had found that your office had been turned inside out, all samples stolen away, papers recklessly rifled through and files on the properties and possible mass production of ADAM snatched. You almost had been booted, but by Ryan’s almost good graces, you were returned to research, to make up for the extensive information that had been lost. Almost directly after the theft, Fontaine Futuristics had released Plasmids as a new fun toy for the people. And the people of Rapture had ate it up, eating right out of Fontaine’s hand.   
  
And now, you had the same substance running through your veins, dooming you to your destabilization unless you managed to get more, soon. Too bad Dirk didn’t know that, and you weren’t going to tell him anytime soon, the jackass. He had worked with tin cans more than he had with human biology, and he wouldn’t know of the dire ramifications that this new alterations may bring.

“Hal, do you need some help? You don’t look exactly look like you’re in the best physical condition right now.” Dirk asks, quirking an eyebrow. Of fucking course you weren’t in the best physical condition. You give him a slightly cursory glance before replying.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious, for your observation, but I won’t be in need of your assistance. I can walk by myself.” You say, with an exaggerated mock salute. “Now, let’s get going. Splicers probably are going to come with in the range of a few minutes, I’d wager. The entire commotion we caused was pretty fucking loud.”

You quickly get to your feet, your visioning doubling and blackening for a second, before it returned to normal as you supported yourself against the metal beams of the hallway. Fortunately for you, your abdominal wound for the most part was healed, so you felt no ill effects, save for a fading pain. You stumble slightly, before falling flat on your face onto a corpse, letting out a small exclamation of disgust as you did so.

You feel Dirk hoisting you up, putting your arm around his shoulder, a very slight smirk on his face. “You were saying, Marius?”

“Shut the fuck up, and get going.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a little help from brostridersbutt (@tumblr), so a big thanks to them!! I feel like this is sorta poopy but w/e, i hope you enjoy!  
> TW: Alcohol, slight tipsiness/drunkenness!

"Lay off the vodka. You've had enough for now." Dirk says, barely looking up from the bandaging he was doing, wrapping white swathes of gauze around your bared abdomen. Your shirt and vest had been tossed aside onto the bed, which was dubiously clean for the most part. The garments were rather torn up now, but you couldn't do much about it.

"What? Should I switch to that Arcadia Merlot stuff instead? From what I've heard, it's pretty shitty. " you reply, considering the wine that sat invitingly on the wooden dresser. You were never much of a connoisseur, but you could deal with a change.

"What I mean, is to abstain entirely from drinking the shitty alcohol."

You two had barricaded yourselves in a hotel room for the night, risking safety and speed in exchange for rest. Well, at least that's what Dirk had planned to do. You, on the other hand had wanted to keep moving. Time was a precious commodity and there was never enough of it on your hands. You still felt pain from the wound you had previously received (although, it was mostly healed by the effects of ADAM, it still left behind a pretty nasty injury), but it was annoying compared to what you had felt, although the memory was fast fading. Dirk had suggested that you should take a few shots of the liqueur to soothe your discomfort.

"What's the slogan for this brand again? Ah, yes. The occasion is right for..." You take a dramatic pause for effect, watching as Dirk rolled his eyes. "For Chechnya. Besides, wasn't this your idea?"

"I said a few shots, not a half of the bottle, genius." Dirk responds, finally pissed enough to return your gaze, as he ties off the last of the bandages. "That should last for a week or so. Then we'll have to stop and redress it, or-"

"My hyper healing abilities with kick in and I'll be healed in the time frame of a week, because of the shit you've injected me with. And aren’t you going to kiss my poor boo boo better?" You interrupt, before taking another swig from the bottle, a pleasant buzz setting in as the alcohol burned down your throat. You never were much of a drinker, but that didn't mean that you couldn't hold your own. You look at the bottle you were holding in your right hand, considering how much of it's contents was left. Approximately three quarters of the liquid sloshed about in the bottle, and you decided to take another drink, before popping the cork back in.

"You'll be hung over tomorrow, Hal. And you'll probably bitch about it too. " Dirk warns, ignoring your last comment, as he walks back to the front of the room to check the front door. Nothing. Everything seemed to be stable condition, and there was no significant danger presented yet. He walks back over, sitting on the bed you were resting on currently."Don't say, 'Oh, Strider, why didn't you stop me?', because at that point, I'll feel no pity for a jackass who drank almost a half bottle of vodka and insisted on continuing."

"It was actually a quarter of the bottle. "

"Of vodka. And Chechnya, no less. Don't you know how hard that crap can get? I've heard of people dying from drinking an entire bottle. That's 80 proo-"

"Stop spewing the facts and shut up for a second, will you?" You say, sitting up and clapping a hand over his mouth, the other limb wrapped around his waist and arms to keep him from prying your hand from his trap. After a few moments of his struggling, he returns to silence, and as he does, you release your grip on him. You wonder faintly if you could get him flustered, before taking it down as another thing on your to do list.

"Do you hear that? That's the sound of sweet silence, unperturbed by the sound of your gab." You whisper, putting your lips almost to Dirk's ear, becoming pretty sure that you were a little more than tipsy. But, you didn't care. He shoves you back at that point, pretty indignant as you restrain a laugh, a small grin on your face, flopping onto your back on the bed. "You're too fun to make fun of, Dirk."

"I'm sure that's one of my most redeeming qualities." He replies dryly, a more serious demeanor returning to his countenance. Oh no, how scary. “Why are you enjoying yourself in a situation like this anyways? Weren’t you the one who was so set on getting out in the first place?”

“One; I’m not enjoying myself, I’m drinking. Drinking makes me look like I’m enjoying myself, but I’m not. I’m just trying to drown my problems, for the time being. Simple enough for you to understand, right? Two, I’d rather die running for my life with you instead of staying here and being subjected to whatever Ryan wants us to do. Hell, I don’t care as long as you get out. I don’t matter, but you do.” You say, your former cool returning to you, the half drunken asshole disappearing temporarily. A few words still idled in your mouth, almost spilling out, the few terms being,

I’d die for you.

I love you.

But you were smart enough to hold your tongue. This was as much as you were going to admit to him for now. You didn’t want to be too ashamed of yourself in the morning, the taste of alcohol and regret clear in the AM hours, cursing yourself for being such a fool and letting your intoxication get the better of you.

Dirk seemed to process what you said, considering your prior statements, before he turns to you.

“You’re fucking crazy. Don’t drink anymore, I’m hiding this booze and you’re going to be sober until we get out of this hell hole. And by the way, the way you’re describing it, sounds like you love me or some shit.” he says after a long pause, before snatching the vodka from your hand, along with the Merlot off the dresser, and pouring it out onto the floor. You glare at him, a twinge of irritation overriding your previous sappiness. Fuck Dirk. Fuck him.

“I might have before you did that but no semblance of affection is present in my stone cold heart now. It’s all gone. Drained like those bottles you’re holding.” you say, partially sarcastic, and partially serious. You hoped that Dirk had taken your very half-baked, almost confession somewhat seriously. But there was no way to be sure, so you would just keep on hinting at it.   

“If you hate me that much, then you’ll allow me to take first watch while you take a long nap.”

“I hate you even more, so I will take the chore that you wish to do. I’ll take watch, you go to sleep.”

“...Fine. Also, put a shirt on.”

“Nah.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ image of map](http://i.imgur.com/z28nd33.png) for those who are confused (it's an edited version of the canon map)! sorry this chapter was sort of late, I kept on procrastinating on it.

"Look alive, sunshine. Get up. Get going." You hear someone say. Most likely Dirk. You groan in annoyance, your head pounding as you sit up, squinting, the sheets that had been so neatly pulled over you pooling at your waist. The unwelcome chill hit your still bare torso, as you groped around for a shirt, not caring if you looked like a complete lunatic.

You still have a vague ghost of a memory of what you did last night, and you were certainly not proud in the least. Getting drunk, then spilling almost all your feelings onto your closest companion/potential romantic partner that you've never previously confessed to was one surefire way to get him to view you in a negative light. Not to mention the migraine you were having right now. Fucking Chechnya.

  
"Hal, you look like an idiot." Dirk states, his expression one of faint amusement, his comment interrupting your thoughts.

You give him a vaguely threatening grunt before glaring at him for a few seconds, before continuing your search. After a few fruitless minutes, you come up with nothing."Dirk, where the fuck are my clothes?"

“I have them. I tried fixing them, but like you said I’m the pro with working with tin cans and am absolute shit at everything else.” He says, tossing your vest and dress shirt at you, not meeting your eyes. It seems that he was vaguely ashamed of what he might have done, and you desperately hoped it wasn’t as bad as he thought it was. This was the only shirt you had left, and battling splicers and the like half naked wasn’t exactly the most practical of choices. The clothes land crumpled in your lap, before you hold them out in front of you, examining Dirk’s handiwork.

Clumsy stitches stretch across the fabric, the attempts at joining the cloth together mediocre at best. You give Dirk a look, raising an eyebrow. He just gave you a half-assed shrug, seemingly feeling a slight sting of embarrassment judging from the way he shifted away from you. You put on your shirt, buttoning your vest best as you could before posing a question.

“Gee, thanks, Dirk. How long did this take you anyways?”

“That’s irrelevant. Now, get up, put on your clothes and help me move the barricade we made yesterday.”

You comply with most of his commands, stretching as you get up and help him to shift the wardrobe that you had shifted in front of the door for extra security measures. Grabbing your pipe and the supply bag, you decided it was just about time to go out. Opening the door slightly, you looked around before motioning for Dirk to follow you outside into the desecrated hotel hallway. The lights flickered outside as you two made your way out to the front of the hotel.

You promptly hopped the counter of the front desk, rifling through the various compartments for food, cash, ammo or anything else that would be of use. Dirk watched with a slight look of distaste at your actions, as you continued to scrounge around for beneficial items.

“Wherever we go, you always end up looting the place. You’ve got no shame, have you?”

“What are you, the police? ‘Course I have no shame, because if this shit’s unguarded, might as well put up a flashing neon sign saying take me now, I’m all yours. It’s especially tempting since before everything went down the drain, we had to pay for everything.” You reply as you drop a few rolls of cash into your satchel, before tossing a Pep Bar to Dirk, saving a few for yourself. “Bon appétit, breakfast is served.”

Dirk rolls his eyes, before unwrapping the Pep Bar and taking a bite, sighing a little. This was the only thing that you two had been subsisting off of. Pep Bars, cream filled cakes, coffee, the occasional bag of chips and of course, alcohol. Even those meals were infrequent. It’d been a while since you two had a proper meal.

Or a proper anything, for that instance. You and Dirk have only been able to scrap together a few hours of sleep each night, if anything. Most of the time, both of you were kept on your feet all day and all night, fatigue filling your bodies, adrenaline the only thing keeping you going. At this point in time, sleeping for more than three hours a night had you practically salivating.

You were about to leave, before finding the most valuable discovery of the day. A pair of radios. Snatching them up, you hand one to Dirk, and keep one for yourself.

“See, looting isn’t all that bad. You should try it sometime.” You casually suggest, fiddling with the radio’s settings as you said this, intending to rub this into Dirk’s face.

“And get stuck in the trash can like you did last time?” He counters, before grabbing your radio. You frown slightly, trying to keep the flush from your face as you remember the trash can incident.

“That was a one time accident. There were three bags of chips in there, along with four rounds of ammo-”

“Say what you want to say, it won’t stop me from remembering your oh so noble reasons for looting a goddamned trashcan.” He rolls his eyes as you protest, before passing the radio back to you. “Here. I adjusted the frequency so we can communicate with each other.”

“Great, I can listen to your annoying voice all day, and you can bask in the glory of mines.” You say, as you tuck the radio into a compartment in your bag, before pulling out a map and putting it onto the counter. “So, here’s the plan. Since we’ve been cornered here, and confirmed that all other exits either destroyed, flooded, etcetera, we’ll have to split up and scout for a new means of escape. I was planning on having the both of us go explore each option together, but since we have some sort of communication device, we can now split up. We’ll meet at the bathysphere station in Rolling Hills, if our quest proves fruitless.”

You copy part of the map and hand it to Dirk, directions written clearly on the back. Hoping that worse wouldn’t come to worst, you two bid each other good bye, and part in your opposite directions. As you continued to explore and fight for the most of the day, you had two viable exit options left. You radioed Dirk to return to return to your meeting spot.

You stood where the bathyspheres were, waiting for Dirk, before your radio crackled and Dirk came on, a tinge of what seemed to be panic in his voice. “Hal, I think I’m trapped. The bulkhead door won’t open, and I’m trying my best to bypass it, but I don’t know how to override these mechanisms, as they’re totally different than the ones I’ve worked with. I want you to come over to where it opens on the other side, and see if you can hack into it from there.”

You could feel your throat constricting in panic as you made your way over, your heart almost pounding its way out of your chest, as you thought of going on without the company of Dirk. It wasn’t the idea of being alone that scared you; it was the idea of Dirk getting hurt that frightened the shit out of you. Although he may have been able to recover from previous injuries, it had been because you two had been fighting together, so that either of you hadn't gotten the brunt of the violence. Once you made it to the bulkhead, you radioed Dirk again.

“Dirk, I’m going to try to open it. Stand back, and don’t make any contact with the door.”

Allowing for a few minutes for Dirk to follow your instructions, you summoned up your strength and shot arcs of electricity at the door. The sparks danced over the door, but to no avail. Your panic increased, and you slammed yourself against the door, banging on it furiously, even electrocuting it again, hoping that you could fry the mechanisms that held it shut and gain his freedom. Your struggle proved futile, and you slumped against the door, breathing hard, before Dirk radioed you again.

“It’s not working.”

“I fucking know.” You growl out, frustration and trepidation clear in your tone. You try to organize your scattered thoughts, to come up with a plan that would get the both of you out of this mess. Think, goddamnit! “Dirk, tell me which paths you can use.”

“The only paths that aren’t obstructed are the ones to the farmer’s market, Upper Rolling Hills, part of the storage rooms, and part of the tea garden.”

“Ok. Dirk, you’re going to exit through the farmer’s market and go to Neptune’s Bounty. You'll have to go through Jet Postals and go to the Upper Wharf, go to the Lower Wharf through there, and then go to the bathysphere station there. When you get there, we’ll meet up at Fort Frolic, and figure out our shit from there. Did you get that?”

There was a pause on the other end, before Dirk replies.

“I’ve got it. Wish me luck.”

And with that, he disconnects, and presumably starts on the task you gave him. And you really do wish him luck, as you make your way to the bathysphere.

He’ll need it.  



	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra trigger warning for abduction!   
> Also, fact that this chapter took me forever to write.

The bathysphere rattled as it finally came into the station at Fort Frolic. You radio Dirk again, hoping that he’s not too occupied to respond. You continue out of the vehicle, into the main welcome center. “Dirk, I’m at Fort Frolic now. I’ll be meeting you in the shopping center. Or what used to be the shopping center..”

“Alright. I’m almost to the bathysphere station. I’m on my way to the Upper Wharf, so it should be a piece of cake to get there.”

“Are you serious? A piece of cake, huh? Well, whatever; try to pick up your pace and we’ll be able to meet up soon.” You reply, as you examine your surroundings. It seemed, at its peak it must have been a sight to behold, with the elegant marble pillars and overarching ceiling, filled with intricate murals.

But now, pipes were easily seen through the cracked plaster of the roof, and the murals were faded, the paint chipping and water damage yellowing the walls. The silence was only broken by the crackle of your radio, and Dirk’s reports and quips, and the sound of water humming outside. You walked further in, considering the locked entrance.

“It looks like the entrance is locked, Dirk. I think we’ll have to set up another meeting pl- Hold up, I think I heard something.” You say, as you hear rustling. You turn, weapons at the ready. You had recently acquired a revolver, and you were more than happy to have found it. Holding it out in front of yourself, you turned, standing ready for any sort of attack. There was nothing but thin air there.

“Hal, I think your reception is getting cut off or there’s some sort of interference, because I can’t hea-” Dirk’s voice became fainter and fainter as he spoke, before he was cut off by a click. “Dirk? Dirk, can you hear me? Dirk, if you’re fucking with me I’m going to murder you. Dirk, fucking answer me-”

“Why talk to this Dirk, when you can talk to me?” An unfamiliar voice cuts through the previous static, and you almost drop the radio in surprise. Your gaze turns hostile, before you answer. “Who the fuck are you, and why did you cut off my connection with Dirk?”

“I’m Sander Cohen, only the most renowned artist in all of Rapture! Surely, you’ve must have rubbed elbows with me at some point in time, Dr. Marius? And like I said; why talk to him? I’d wager that I’m more interesting than that philistine.”

You openly groan once you hear the name Cohen. It was that fucking guy with the weird mustache and eyebrows that you had met at that one Christmas party. He’d bragged copiously about opening the eyes of Rapture to the new sensations of his art, and how we, as a people “were uneducated clods to call him crazy”. Talk about egocentric. He also had a rather dubious background, and you didn’t want to get involved with him, despite how Ryan seemed to favor him.

“Anyways, before I can grant you entrance, you’ll have to pass an entrance exam. Simple enough, yes?”

“Nothing’s simple coming from a fucking loon like you. Bring it on, Cohen.” You snarl, awaiting your so called entrance exam. You ready yourself, before numerous splicers start to spawn, spider splicers, the normal thugs, leadheads. You name it, they were there. You efficiently cut them down, giving them the good old one two, aka electrocute, shoot, rinse and repeat. You escaped with a few wounds, but it was nothing serious. Panting, you allowed your guard to go down as you caught your breath.

“Excellent job. I didn’t expect you to do just as well, as you are a man of science, with is conclusive evidence that you’re an exceptional wet blanket. But, welcome to Fort Frolic! Do make yourself welcome.”

The copper doors slid open, finally allowing you inside. You enter, wary of any other threats that might approach you. You soon arrive at a strange fixture, made of plaster and gilded picture frames, the entire piece glittering in the white spotlights from overhead. You gaze upon it for a few minutes, before rolling your eyes and dismissing it as one of those artistic things that you would never understand.

“I see you’ve happened upon the Quadtych. It’s one of my masterpieces.”

You allow yourself a small smirk, before returning your glance to this so called Quadtych. It’d be a shame if someone, were to say; burn it. Snatching a fire plasmid out of your satchel, you hesitate slightly as you poise the needle above your upper arm. Would this really be worth the consequences that it would present?

You could feel the need roiling in your gut, as it occurred to you that you hadn’t had a shot of ADAM since last week. It’d feel so damned good, to have that exhilaration rushing through your blood again, to feel that power and thrill of having pure energy injected into your veins. You thought, that fateful day, when Dirk had injected you, that you could have resisted. That you could have been stronger.

But you haven’t become anything but weaker.

You feel shame, before feeling the power wreak its havoc through your body, as you double over in simultaneous pleasure and pain, gritting your teeth as your rode the high through, before you feel the flames awaken in your palm. The fire flares in your hand, and you shoot the flames towards the Quady-whatever. It bursts into glorious flame, the cool white of the spotlight being replaced by the voracious red, the smell of smoke soon filling the air.

“You filthy sow! How dare you touch my masterpiece!” Cohen himself finally decides to appear, descending down the stairs in a poof of red smoke. Well, shit, he was a Houdini splicer. Teleportation, fire balls, and all sorts of long range weapons. He seems rather eager to destroy you, as you seemed to have burned his pièce de résistance. You had decided long ago that it was a shitty piece of work anyways.

“I just thought it’d look better in ashes, anyways. It was disgusting, your technique is disappointing.” You taunt, trying to get him to attack first. And it works, as he lunges towards you, spitting various insults. You dodge, before firing your gun a few times at him, hitting him in his torso a couple of times, before he disappeared again.

“It’s strange, how much you’ve changed, Marius. You were such a handsome specimen; all cocky smiles and big talk. Now look at what you did to yourself.” Cohen jabs at you, his voice full of derision. You let out a harsh laugh, before returning the dirt that he had so generously flung at you.

“Too bad you were never pretty to begin with; now look at yourself, pretty boy. You look like you flew straight from hell and slammed your face right on the pavement. And I never did this to myself.”

You scan your surroundings, constantly on edge, adrenaline pumping through you as you try to spot Cohen again. He appears in front of you again, your barbs seemingly having gotten to him.

“Then whomever did this to you, must have really despised you. Think on it. But I don’t think that you can think about it when you’re fucking dead!” He lunges again, before you set him on fire, flames bathing him in a shower of searing heat. He lets out a ear piercing scream, before he falls to the floor, his corpse burned beyond any recognition. You wait for the flames to go out, before searching his body for the key to the main control room. You pull it out, and stash it in your pocket before you head there.

You try not to let the thought that Cohen had introduce nag you too much, but it seems to have burrowed deep into your mind, infecting your regular thoughts. What if, Dirk really had hated you? What if, Dirk just did this so that you would suffer a fate worse than death, because he knew that you had seen the consequences of this substance, that in comparison, death would have been a small mercy?

Fucking what ifs, what ifs. They weren’t true, they wouldn’t be, they couldn’t be. You tried desperately to convince yourself, but doubt still plagued you. You made it up to the control center, unlocking the bathysphere stations and unjamming the radio signals. The glass panels of the control room reflected your face back to you, and you could see, that you had indeed changed.

Your face had veins of glowing, pulsating red, spiderwebbing across it, a large jagged slash going down the left side of your face. Your eyes were no longer normal, and they blazed a furious crimson; and you hated yourself for this change. You fucking hated it, because it filled you with humiliation, it told you that you failed being someone that you could have been.

It told you that you were becoming one of the beasts that you had seen at the labs, the ones that had begged to become human again, the ones that had screamed out unearthly cries and bitter words. You were becoming the things that you had made, and Dirk was the one who had damned you to this fate.

And now, you were sure that you were beginning to hate him for it. But, you still loved him, and these emotional conflicts seem to want to tear you from your core.

You spied a white mask on the floor; a leftover scrap of the revels that used to happen here. You lean over and pick it up, considering it and turning it in your hand, before you slip it on, a temporary solution to what you were feeling.

But it was no time for those petty thoughts. You have to contact Dirk, and tell him that you’re alright. The radio makes a crackling static noise, before Dirk’s voice comes on. You feel a unexpected rush of relief as you hear him speak; at least he wasn’t dead (maybe, you were glad that he wasn’t dead yet, because you wanted to kill him yourself; you wanted to slide your hands around his throat and choke him to death, his last gasps sweeter than any candy to you).

“Hal, I need you to come to the labs immediately. You know, the ones that we used to work at?”

“Why? Didn’t we agree to meet at Fort Frolic?” You ask, feeling dread creep into your chest as you hear Dirk’s panicked protest as someone else took the radio from him, and spoke into it.

“Hello, Dr. Marius. It’s been a while since we’ve met.”

You tense at the voice, fear coiling in your gut. Andrew Ryan. And now, he had Dirk in his clutches.

“I want you, to meet me here at this lab, before twelve tomorrow. Or else, my guest will get the brunt of the punishment and you know what happens to those that disappoint me. So, I’ll be seeing you tomorrow. Good-bye.”

And with a click, Ryan disconnects, leaving you with twenty hours that you couldn’t afford to spare.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note: the next chapters will be delayed, because it’s finals week and will need time to get back up on my feet after that, so sorry form the delay! hopefully, this chapter with hold its stead. also, extra tws in this chapter for murder, gore, and mention of human experimentation.

You can feel the stunned silence coalescing around you, as your mind refuses to accept the thought. You wanted to think that this was all a joke, that this was some abnormally stupid prank that Dirk was playing on your because he thought it was funny, with his twisted sense of humor and crooked, rare smile. But the truth wasn’t always something that was sweet as it was advertised to be; instead of being the solution is was made out to be, it was just a wrench slammed into the grand machinations of things, the gears tangling around the wayward piece of metal. You furiously tried to radio Dirk again, but your efforts were repeatedly thwarted, only returning static and noise.

You were cursing yourself, cursing yourself for letting yourself believe that splitting up was a good idea, cursing yourself for letting what Cohen said get to you. The fucking clown didn’t know anything, but that little idea still crept up in the corners of your mind, twisting your thoughts beyond recognition. His words haunted you, making you a mess inside and out. What the hell did you want from Dirk anymore?

His life? His affection? He was the one who had screwed you over, but it seemed that he was your only saving grace. He was the one that had pulled you from your frequent bouts of self loathing, of what you were doing, convincing you that you were someone better, that you could be someone better. You felt like a piece of shit for hating him, but somewhere, in your trash heap of a soul, you felt like it was justified.

It didn’t help that your need for ADAM was increasing, and your thoughts were beginning to go down paths that they never had before. Thinking straight was becoming difficult when you didn’t have a syringe in your arm, and the cravings were unbearable, turning you inside out, and you hated depending on it so much to make you satisfied, to make you feel whole.

You make a hazy connection between love and ADAM, how they were just both chemicals manufactured to make you feel good and satisfied, to reward you for something that you should (shouldn’t?) be doing. The only difference was, that one was artificial while the other was completely natural. While one destroyed you physically, the other one was practically shredding you apart mentally.

You decided it was time to stop turning over such thoughts, and get on your way to Ryan. It was a waste of time anyways. Pressing the mask closer to your face and securing it, you make your way outside, and back to the bathysphere station that you had entered from. Entering the machine, you slam the door closed behind you, before you waited impatiently for what seemed to be like decades to reach your old workplace. It was so much like your old commute that it was laughable. You would wake up, dazed and grab a cup of coffee before heading out to work in a tram or a bathysphere, waiting for the long wait to end. But in that instance, you could have afforded to take all day.

You tapped your foot, leaning against the metal wall of the vehicle, the noise making a slight metallic clang each time your foot came in contact with the floor. The noise seemed to echo, but your mind was too distracted to notice such trifles. The first objective, as always was to escape. Second, was to kill/seriously maim/deliver a life threatening injury to Ryan’s smug ass. Then, get Dirk up to the surface first, like your original plan had went. Simple. A piece of cake.

The bathysphere stops, and you depart, stepping out into the atrium. You look around, absorbing your surroundings. The Little Wonders sign glows a neon red and blue ahead, sparks occasionally flying from the wild wires that had come loose from neglect. You remembered the disgusting front that Ryan had put up to continue to produce ADAM after snatching the company back from Fontaine. An orphanage for the little girls that had parents that could no longer take care of them, taken into the caring hands of Rapture’s newest institution for the needy.

You had never seen the experiments take place; you were only responsible for creating the sequences that would allow the parasitic slugs to fuse with their new hosts with as little repercussions as possible, along with a grab bag of other jobs. But, you had seen the aftermath. Little girls with glowing yellow eyes that didn’t even reach your shoulder in height transformed into miniature living factories, conditioned so deeply and so strongly that they thought dead bodies were angels, blood was a smattering of rose petals, and their monstrous guardians noble knights covered in a golden armor.    

And you had always felt overwhelming twists of shame, guilt and disgust. But, you were in Rapture. There was no need for the petty morals that had held you back, that had reduced you to such a weakling on land. Or so you had told yourself. Soon, those trifling thoughts had made their way back to the surface of your mind, and now you swam in them again, drowning in waves after waves of almost fresh remorse and self reproach. The place, in the least, brought back horrible memories for you.

But swallowing that back down, you stiffly walked inside, reluctance clear in your steps. The pink walls covered with scribbled pictures of big daddies and their “daughters” soon gave way to the dull walls of the laboratory. You continued to advance, taking note of several wrecked bodies along the way, before the light of a security camera fell on you. You flinched slightly, before hurriedly moving out of the blinding light, into the dark. The PA system soon crackled on, a familiar voice coming on.

“I see you’ve arrived, Doctor. And well on time. I was starting to get worried that you wouldn’t arrive.” Ryan says, amusement tinting his tone. You sick fuck. You almost cussed him out on the spot, but you were well aware that he wouldn’t care; nor would it do anything. So you stayed silent, grinding your teeth to keep your mouth shut. “Since you’re my guest, I have graciously disabled the security automatons. You may head to your old workplace. I’m waiting for you, Dr. Marius.”

The hall returned to silence. You trembled, partially in anger and partially in a mixture of fear and some other emotion that you couldn’t place a name to. You were going to strangle someone, if not yourself. Expression dark, you made your way to the old lab you worked at; Optimized Eugenics. You strode into your old workroom with a bang, slamming the door open, not caring who’s or what’s attention you would attract. And there he was. Supreme ruler and creator of Rapture, Andrew Ryan himself.

“Thank you for making it here on time. Do take a seat, Doctor.” Ryan said, gesturing at one of the deteriorating plush chairs that were in front of the desk he stood behind. You decided to outright refuse his order.

“No thanks, I was never much for sitting. Where the hell is Dirk?” you ask, deciding to cut straight to the chase, all semblances of formalities jostled roughly to the side. Screw manners, you weren’t going to deal with that bullshit right now.

“Where he should be. Working. You can see for yourself.”

A screen flickered to life in the almost abysmally dim room, showing Dirk hard at work on something. You squinted, before recognizing it. Project Prometheus, otherwise known as Project Delta. He was screwing together a suit, clearly showing signs of extreme fatigue and sleep deprivation. You almost reached over to the screen, wanting to press your hands to the screen to reach through and save him; to reach through and shatter it, to shatter him and this display. Emotions that were once held under your control were clearly showing through, constricting your throat and chest. You managed to hold back for now, the only sign of your distress was the electricity arcing at the tips of your fingers of your left hand.

The screen turned off, and you drew your attention back to Ryan, the need for revenge bubbling in your mind, almost making you mad with the intoxicating thoughts of how good it would feel to kill him right this second. But, you would wait, you would be patient. He did have Dirk under his influence, and he would clearly use that to his advantage. Once you got to Dirk, for the worse or the better of the Strider’s welfare, you would get rid of Rapture’s monarch once and for all.            

“Now that you’ve seen it, I’d like to suggest that you join him. But in your condition, I don’t think that you would last for so long. It’s such irony isn’t it? A creator, trying to harness the immense power of plasmids, succumbing to his own creation, his invention instead harnessing him. A slave to an inanimate object.” Ryan almost seems to taunt you, as he closes the space between you two, only a few feet away now. “Pathetic. And you’re even trying to cover it with a flimsy mask; you’re barely human anymore, so why bother?”

“Although the following statements have been true, I can still confirm that my genome structure is still resembling that of a humans. And look at you; you’re the one who started this mess. You were the one who made us research this shit, the one who drove us headfirst into this cesspool. And I have to say, I’m much obliged, Ryan.” You say, maintaining a certain degree of sarcastic calm.    

But, your remarks seemed to mean nothing to him. You weren’t all that surprised. Ryan was a man of great composure.

“You’re very clever, but that clever tongue would be cut off if I was a crueler man. However, I am not. Come now; you have work to do.”

With that he turns, and starts to lead you to your workplace, and perhaps your grave. If you stayed there long enough. Which you certainly wouldn’t be fucking doing. It was foolish of Ryan to turn his back on you, and perhaps it was even more foolish of you to attempt what you were going to do next. As you almost reached the lab that you were certain Dirk was working in, you lunged forwards, tackling Ryan. He fell forwards and you prepared to shock him, before feeling a bullet from a pistol slam into your gut. You let out a loud grunt of pain, before electrifying him, the shock waves going through both your bodies, as you pressed your hand to his back, digging your fingertips in. When you were sure he was unconscious, you started to bloodily beat him, the blood splattering onto your face. After you were finished, you were pretty sure that he was done for.

You hack open the door, not caring that shrapnels were flying everywhere in the process, not even caring about the glass in your knuckles, or the blood dripping from your bullet wound. Once the door was open, you stepped in. You wanted to see him; you needed to see him.

Dirk’s head rose, obviously expecting someone else, before his eyes widened in shock.

“Hal, what- Wher- Why are you he-” he stammers, the rare display of emotion almost overcoming him. You step forward, grabbing his hand and roughly pull him to his feet.

“We have no time to waste. Ryan’s dead. I killed him.” you say, bluntly as possible. You just want to get out of here at this point, and you turn your back on Dirk, so that he doesn’t get to further see your face, so that he won’t ask, so that he won’t dig into it like he always does when he sees something that’s paining you. You pulled him forward, but he refused to move. You whip around, yanking him closer, eyes dark.

“Do you want to get out or not? Because if you fucking do, I’d suggest actually moving your fucking feet.” You hiss, leaning over to him, almost uncomfortably close. He looks surprised at your tone at first, before the same emotionless mask settles over his features, hiding the initial consternation that he had felt.

Dirk then reaches up and slips a hand under your mask, taking it off. You automatically let go of him, flinching back slightly, before covering your face with your hands, almost childish in some sort of way.

“Hal, what happened to you?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are quickly approaching the end. i think 9 is going to be the last chapter! but it’s not going to come out anytime soon, because i have finals like i said. anyhow, hopefully my writing of a kismesis isn’t terribly inaccurate

“Nothing. Now, give me my mask back.” You state as calmly as you can, knowing that you’re going to reach the end of your rope with this bullshit. You press a hand on to your face, using the other to reach out to Dirk, to get your mask back, sort of lurching forward in the process. You desperately snatch at the air a few times, each time Dirk evading you, like this was some sort of sadistic game.  

“Answer my question, Hal. What the hell happened to you?” He asks, as you lunge forward once again. He takes advantage of your lunge to push you upright, prizing the hand from your face. He stares for the few seconds, before you recover, bristling. You can already see the disgust forming on his face, not bothering to think on whether your own mind fabricated the emotion or not.

“Don’t fucking look at me!” You snarl, pushing him off forcefully. But that’s what he does, before his glance quickly flicks away. Anger rises in you, a red tide, that you can no longer control, and it crashes down on you. 

“That’s right. Stare at the freak show, feel sorry for him; no it, because I’m no longer fucking human to you, am I? I must look like a demon, with all these alterations. Red eyes, veins everywhere, and an added bonus is that I can even shoot lightening, fire, ice; anything really. I bet people would pay real money just to see me now, scientist turned mutant.” You say with a bitter laugh, your mouth stretching way too wide for it to be even genuine, not caring that your face was exposed now, not really caring about anything but your red hot rage.

“I’m sorry-”

“If you were really sorry, then you should have just let me bleed to death instead of making my life a living hell. You know, you were asking me what happened to you, why are you like this, Hal?” You mock him slightly, as you watch the expressions of anger, confusion and most of all, fear flash over his face. He must have been wondering if this was the person he had known before, if you were the same. And you could wholeheartedly say you were not. “The answer is that you happened, Dirk. You.”

“What do you mean? I didn’t do anything but save your life. I fucking cared too much for you to die, and now you’re condemning me for doing that?” He challenges, anger starting to creep into his voice and expression.

“You didn’t save me. You’re not my fucking messiah, you’re not my fucking hero, even though I can see that you want to be. And desperately too. You know, at some point I even loved you, because I thought that was what you were going to be.  You spat the word out, feeling like it left a bad taste in your mouth. It felt bitter and overused, worn out. Love meant nothing now, as you had to learn the hard way. “Maybe I still do, and it fucking hurts. I doubt it, though. But you know what? I hate you, I hate you for what you did and what you’re doing to me, Dirk. I thought you were going to be my hero, but turns out the only way to get things done is to save yourself. Take a good look at me, take a good look at what you did.”

You didn’t even know if you really meant what you had said. But you thought that it felt right to say that you hated him, and it sure felt like you did at this moment. You weren’t sure of anything at this point; everything used to be in such crisp black and white that when it blurred to gray in times like this, you were confused as hell. But the fury you felt kept you going.

“I never fucking asked for this shit to happen! There wasn’t any other way, and I didn’t know that this was going to occur, I didn’t think the consequences were going to be so bad. I’m sorry for making you into this.” He tries to apologize, the anger almost dissipating from his face as he hears you admit everything, as he hears you spill out all this emotional bullshit. You didn’t relent under his pretty words, your rage continuing to seethe.

“Sorry doesn’t fucking cut it, Strider. Doesn’t even make a miniscule dent.” You hiss in reply, snatching the mask from his hand, before deciding it was meaningless now. You were going to try to keep your face hidden from the one you thought you loved (maybe the one that you still loved); but now, what was the point? You grab his collar with both hands, pulling him closer to you, making sure that your grip was uncomfortably tight.

“I have half a mind to strangle you, but I’m not going to , because I don’t break my promises. Get your ass in gear, we’re going whether you like it or not.” You say, letting go of him and pushing him away, before walking to the door. You were starting to feel terrible again, the earlier anger that you had released redirected at yourself. Your head hurt; almost everything did. And the pain was so strong, that you almost didn’t realize that Ryan’s body was gone. At this point, you didn’t care. The bastard was good as dead. There wasn’t really anything he could do at this point; even the healing stations wouldn’t help him in this state.  

Dirk lags behind you, an air of hesitancy and uncertainty around him. You were starting to regret what you had said, but you couldn’t really take it back now. What was said, was said, and couldn’t be taken back once they had been released. Your head pounds further, as you try to think whether or not you loved him anymore, like you had said. Well, fuck, you already admitted it. And this was the first time that you weren’t receiving mixed signals from someone else; you were receiving mixed signals from yourself, and it was fucking frustrating. The reception was so jacked up that your thoughts were toeing the line between entirely fucking inane and self destructive.

Dealing with emotions wasn’t always your strongest point. Sure, you knew their chemical compositions, but you never understood why besides the fact that they were extremely similar in their base components, hate and love were considered almost the same thing. And now, your brain was trying to grasp the two concepts, and project both of them onto Dirk Strider himself.

This confusion lasted for days, where you would simultaneously express your affection for him and your hatred, sometimes almost apologizing for your outburst, before catching yourself. And you guessed this was some sort of mixed revenge upon yourself and Dirk, because at the end, he was as confused as you were. But you were sure that it was going to end once you left. Well, at least one of you left.

You could almost taste the sweet victory, as you approached the station. Only a few more minutes of walking, and you would finally arrive at the bathyspheres. After what seemed to be years, you would finally be able to go home.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha im joshing with y'all. this isn't the last chapter. there's probably going to be two more before this train wreck draws to a close.

 

The two of you arrive at the welcome pavilion at last. It had been a long, exhausting week of trekking through the skeleton of civilization, and fighting off the ghosts of its human inhabitants. It's suspiciously quiet, but at this point, you were tired enough not to care. Quiet meant no splicers were around, and no splicers meant you didn't have to fight for any longer.

You had soon grown tired of fighting, especially since you were fighting double duty now, bickering verbally with Dirk over things that hardly mattered and things that did matter. There was no end to the aggression, yet neither side was ready to prepare a truce.

Water drips from burst pipes overhead as you walk through the rotting remnants of the welcome pavilion. Both of you were silent, footsteps on pavement substituting for proper conversation. You knew you wouldn't be able to keep yourself from screwing the entire situation over more and more than you already had if you talked. It seemed that every time word escaped your lips, it seemed to ignite another fight that would start and never seem to fizzle out, only adding to the resentment and hurt simmering between the two of you. There were only fighting words, and never did you apologize for anything that you said.

You were sure that Dirk hated you now, for all the emotions that you had pushed onto him, and all the blame that you had put on him, for making you this way. And maybe, that was for the best.

It was easier to fall out of love with someone that hated you, after all.

Soon enough, you're approaching the bathysphere station. The bathysphere door was open, and there was a sparking, jagged slash in the top of the bathysphere. Strange. No one had entered or left Rapture since that day, but you decided not to question it.

"Dirk, come over here and look at this. See if you can fix it." You request, and Dirk comes over, without complaint. Both of you knew that this was the only way back home, and cooperation would be key in fixing it.

However, Dirk was too short to reach the top. Try as he might, jumping and scrabbling for a grip on the smooth metal of the bathysphere was pretty much impossible.

"I can't get up there." Dirk exclaims, exasperated after a few minutes of attempting to climb the bathysphere.

"I can see that."

"Then why don't you find a way to help me instead of just watching? Go find a ladder or something that I can stand on."

"You don't need a ladder. I can just give you a boost, if you'll let me."

"Please, if those wind traps can kill splicers, then I'll be launched into the ceiling as well. Sort of obvious why we can't do that."

"I'm not using a wind trap because I don't want to murder you."

"You're real convincing. Go find a ladder, Hal."

You roll your eyes, before getting down on your knees besides the bathysphere, clasping both hands together and giving a pointed look to Dirk. "This is what I meant, asshole. Now climb on up. You can pull me up once you're up there."

Dirk steps up without a word, and soon enough, he's at the top of the bathysphere with minimal struggle. He offers you a hand, and you take it. It was a bit harder for him to pull you up, but you got there none the less.

"So? What seems to be the problem?" You eye the sparking gash in the copper metal, trying to find the problem. You lacked the expertise to do so, but you try anyways.

Dirk examines the wound, seeming to come to a conclusion after a few minutes. "There are a few wires that have been practically cut up into ribbons, but that's a minor issue. If the hull of the bathysphere isn't sealed up, we'll have pressurization problems, and we both know that's the biggest of our worries. If I had some sort of blow torch and a soldering iron, then I could fix it, but I don't have either. We'll just have to look for another station."

You flick your left hand, and flames immediately dance in the center of your palm, your arm looking like it's molten. "It's not quite that hopeless yet. Besides, the electricity isn't going to hurt me anyways. Just tell me what to do, and it'll be fixed in no time."

Dirk looks a little surprised, as if he didn't expect a solution to come so fast. You suppose this was the one time you were glad that you had spliced your DNA, as you watched the surprise dissolve into relief, and soon enough, he began to instruct you.

"First, dim the flames a little bit. Yes, just like that. You don't want to completely melt the wires. Now, bring those two togeth- no, no. Not those, those."

After a few minutes of roundabout instruction and frustration on Dirk's part, he took things into his own hands. Quite literally. He makes his way behind you and grabs your arm, and your glance snaps over to look at him. He was too focused on the problem at hand to notice your stare.

You were surprised that he would even touch you, because you had thought you were repulsive to him. What you had been reduced to, a reminder of a mistake. Something warm curls in your chest, but you push it down. It wasn’t time for a resurgence of the feelings that you had been trying to get rid of for so long. Maybe this was just Dirk’s frustration talking, and he just was doing this out of sheer necessity. That was probably the only reason he’d ever touch you again.

Soon enough, with Dirk’s guidance, the wires are all fixed. With an additional twenty minutes of chiding and careful manipulation, the breach in the hull was soon sealed up as well. Dirk’s still close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, and despite the job having been done, he still held your wrist. He wasn’t saying anything, and you didn’t want to turn to look at him a second time. You were about to tell him to let go, before he spoke first.

“You know, I thought about what you said.” His tone was quiet and subdued. Something painful twists in your gut as you hear this, and you wonder what exactly he had thought about what you said. Part of you didn’t want to hear it, and you had half a mind to just interrupt and tell him that you didn’t care about what he thought. But you kept your mouth shut.

“I didn’t know what to think at first. It was a lot to take in, and you gave me a lot of emotional whiplash. Telling me that you hated me, and then you loved me.” He takes a pause, exhaling a sigh. “It’s true that I wanted to save you. I wanted to be a hero; I failed. It is my fault that you’re like this. Just like it was last time. It was my fault that you lost your arm, and the only reason I could feel better was because I replaced it. I couldn’t just let you die, because then, who would replace you? I wanted you to stay alive, even at the cost of your suffering. I was selfish. I thought it was because you were my friend. Someone that I couldn’t bear to lose. But it was more than that.”

“It hurt, to see you like that. You were almost dead. Even if it was your sacrifice to make, I couldn’t just let you throw away your life for me. I couldn’t let you die because-” His voice catches, and there’s a shudder of breath before he went on, his voice a whisper. “I loved you. I didn’t believe it, and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t believe it until now.But now, it’s too late.”

His hand slips from your wrist to your hand, and he squeezes gently. You finally look at him, and you can see the mask that he usually wore had melted off his face, and the expression he had on was one of sorrow. Sorrow that you had caused. It seemed life had seen it fit to spit on you, from the way things were turning out.

You were tired of being angry. You were tired of the hatred you couldn’t quite drive away. So, you relented, and allowed yourself the luxury of giving up for once. You allowed your fingers to tangle with his, and he took this as a signal that it was okay for him to lean on you. The world seemed to shrink for a moment, and it seemed the universe was only made up of two tired humans, both with cases of extremely bad luck and both loved and hated each other. Opposites, yet drawn to each other in every single way possible.

“I’m sorry.” Words finally break the silence, even if it was starting to get a bit comfortable. They were as candid as words could get.

You finally speak, finding something to say at last. “It’s fine. We were both selfish, and we’re only human. We make mistakes.”

And, you turned to make the biggest mistake you ever had in your life. You leaned forward, and kissed Dirk, chastely, gently. His hand only held onto yours tighter, and soon enough, the moment was broken again when you parted.

You didn’t want to let go. But you had to, if you wanted to move on. You release Dirk’s hand, shifting away from him. “Well, we have to get going now. There’s no sense in wasting time.” 

Both of you slide down the side of the bathysphere, with more ease than you had climbing up it. Dirk stepped inside the bathysphere first, and you were about to follow, before the door slammed shut. Wide eyed with panic, Dirk tried to pry the door open, thinking that it was a technical error, a mistake you both had made in trying to fix the thing. But it wasn’t so. 

However hard you tried, you couldn’t get to Dirk, and the only thing you could do was wait. Alarms began to blare and flash, casting their red glow over you, before the speakers crackled on again. Another message to be delivered, telling of what your fate was to be. 


End file.
